The hallways of Westwood High were like a never-ending maze, but not the cool kind with minotaurs and treasure. No, this was the kind where you got lost trying to find the bathroom and ended up in the janitor’s closet.
Again. I was just wandering through them, trying to survive another day without tripping over my own feet or accidentally making eye contact with soone I barely knew.
My boots tapped against the shiny tiles, but the sound was drowned out by the distant chatter of students.
It was like white noise, except instead of calming ocean waves, it was a bunch of teenagers arguing about who forgot to charge their AirPods.
I liked these quiet monts, though. The ones where ti seed to slow down, and I could actually think. About life. About people. About how everyone kept saying high school was just a phase, but it sure didn’t feel like a phase when you were stuck in the middle of it.
It felt more like a really long movie where you weren’t sure if you were the hero, the sidekick, or just the person who trips and spills popcorn everywhere.
I glanced at the clock. 2:45 PM. Fifteen more minutes until the final bell, and then the hallways would explode with the usual chaos of students rushing to their lockers, shoving through the crowd like they were in a Black Friday sale but instead of TVs, they were desperate to escape. But for now, it was calm. Peaceful.
A rare mont where I could actually breathe without inhaling soone’s Axe body spray.
I watched as a couple walked past , their hands brushing against each other like they were testing the waters. They were smiling, lost in their own little world.
A few lockers down, another couple was whispering and laughing, sharing a joke that only they understood. It was sweet, but also kind of sad. Because I knew how it usually ended.
One day, they were inseparable, and the next, they were passing each other in the hall without even a glance. It was like watching a rom-com where you already knew the breakup scene was coming, but you still had to sit through all the cute stuff first.
I sighed and opened my locker, shoving my bag inside. High school love was like a shooting star, bright, beautiful, and gone too soon.
Or maybe it was more like a pizza. Hot and cheesy at first, but if you left it out too long, it got cold and gross. Maybe that was the point. Maybe it wasn’t supposed to last forever. Maybe it was just there to teach us sothing, like how to cry quietly in the bathroom during lunch.
I closed my locker and leaned against it for a mont, staring at the ceiling. What was the point of it all? The friendships, the heartbreaks, the monts that felt so important but would probably be forgotten in a few years.
We all ca here, spent a few years tangled up in emotions and drama, and then one day, we’d walk out and never look back. It was like a really long group project where no one knew what they were doing, and the teacher kept saying, "Figure it out yourselves."
But so things stuck. So people stayed. So monts carved themselves so deeply into us that even years later, we could still feel them, like echoes of a song we used to love. Or like that one ti you fell off the stage during the school play and everyone clapped because they thought it was part of the act. Yeah, that kind of stuck too.
The bell rang, snapping out of my thoughts. The hallways erupted into chaos, and I joined the flow of students, heading toward the exit. But of course, my day couldn’t end without one last dose of embarrassnt.
"Mira!" Mrs. Thompson’s voice cut through the noise like a knife. I froze, my heart sinking. She was standing in the doorway of her classroom, arms crossed, looking like she’d just caught stealing the answers to tomorrow’s test.
Which, for the record, I would never do. Mostly because I didn’t know where to find them.
"Where were you during last class?" she asked, her tone a mix of disappointnt and exasperation.
I opened my mouth, but nothing ca out. My brain was scrambling for an excuse, but all I could think of was the truth. "I was just... stuck in the philosophical implications of ti and forgot your class," I blurted out.
Mrs. Thompson blinked at , her expression sowhere between confused and annoyed.
"Philosophical implications of ti?" she repeated slowly, like she was trying to figure out if I was ssing with her.
I nodded, trying to look serious. "Yeah, you know... like, what even is ti? Is it linear? Or is it more like... a Minecraft world, where you can just dig straight down and end up in a completely different place?"
Mrs. Thompson stared at for a long mont, then sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Detention. Tomorrow after school. And next ti, try to keep your philosophical musings outside of class ti."
I groaned but didn’t argue. As I walked away, I couldn’t help but laugh a little. Of all the excuses I could’ve co up with, I went with that. Classic .
I was almost out the door when I saw him. Elliot. He was leaning against the gate to his house, arms crossed, watching with that stupid smirk of his. He looked like he’d just won the lottery or sothing.
"Hey, Mira," he called, his voice dripping with amusent. "Did you really just get detention for talking about Minecraft?"
I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the way my stomach did a little flip. "It wasn’t just about Minecraft," I said defensively. "It was about... the nature of ti. And existence. And stuff."
Elliot raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Right. And I’m sure Mrs. Thompson was super impressed by your deep thoughts."
I glared at him, but there was no real heat behind it. Elliot had this way of making everything feel like a ga, and even though I knew he was teasing , I couldn’t help but play along.
"Whatever. At least I’m not the one who spends all day staring at like I’m so kind of science experint."
Elliot’s smirk faltered for a second, and I thought I saw a flicker of sothing in his eyes, sothing that looked almost like... embarrassnt? But then it was gone, replaced by his usual cocky grin.
"Maybe I’m just trying to figure out how soone can be so smart and so clueless at the sa ti."
I rolled my eyes again, but I couldn’t stop the smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "Yeah, well, maybe you should focus on figuring out your own life instead of analyzing mine."
Elliot laughed, and the sound made my chest feel weirdly warm. "Maybe I will," he said, pushing himself off the gate and heading toward his house.
But before he disappeared inside, he glanced over his shoulder and added, "See you tomorrow, philosopher."
I stood there for a mont, watching him go. Elliot was... sothing else. He was annoying, sure, but there was sothing about him that made feel... I don’t know. Alive, maybe? Like he saw sothing in that no one else did. Or maybe I was just overthinking it, like I always did.
It was funny, though, we didn’t even talk that much in school, just here at the gate.
With a sigh, I turned and started walking ho. High school was weird. Love was weirder. And Elliot? He was in a category all his own. But for now, I was just going to focus on surviving detention tomorrow. And maybe, just maybe, I’d figure out what the heck was going on in Elliot’s head.
But probably not. Not that I’m in any rush, getting caught up in all those brainwashing hormones sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. No way I’d end up acting all lovestruck for soone.
Right?
I kicked a pebble down the sidewalk, smirking to myself. The afternoon sun hung low, casting long shadows over the quiet neighborhood. Everything felt... normal. Annoyingly, boringly normal. A dog barked in the distance, and a news van sped by, its antenna wobbling like a frantic tal noodle. Probably another fender-bender or a cat stuck in a tree.
Little did I know, the real disaster wasn’t hormones or high school drama, it was the f*cking zombie apocalypse that would turn our world upside down in just a few hours. And trust , no amount of philosophical musings could’ve prepared for that.
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